


Blacking

by Rebel_Atar



Series: Very Belated 2018 Kinktober [25]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Boot Worship, Canon Era, I'll black your boots, Kinktober, M/M, yes i am doing that cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Atar/pseuds/Rebel_Atar
Summary: Grantaire receives his punishment for failing at the Barrière du Maine
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Very Belated 2018 Kinktober [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503962
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Blacking

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: boot worship
> 
> Gratuitously taking quotes from the brick out of context.

“Grantaire will you do me a service?” Enjolras' voice had been as sharp as his look. Disdain dripping from each word.

  
“Anything. I’ll black your boots.” The cynic's response was earnest and his heart soared when Enjolras finally gave him a task.

  
He failed. He became distracted, as was so often the case even when he wanted so badly to pay attention. He begged and pleaded and apologised and was close to weeping by the time the rest of L'Amis left the Musain. Then Enjolras uttered for a second time a phrase that set Grantaire's heart alight.

  
"Grantaire, I consent to try you." This time the inference was a lot clearer, as was the meaningful glance down to his own boots. 

  
The artist took a hesitant step forward, but he had meant what he said earlier, and he wanted so badly to make up for his mistakes. He took another step, and another, until he was within arms reach of his beautiful marble, then he dropped to his knees.

  
Enjolras placed one booted foot on Grantaire's thigh and raised an eyebrow. His instruction had already been given, surely he need not repeat himself. With shaking hands Grantaire cleaned the detritus from Enjolras' right boot, being careful not to press to hard. For while Enjolras' shoes were certainly good quality leather, though only to be hard wearing and practical he would be swift to point out, it was wearing a little thin. He did not wish to discomfort the other man.

  
He was thorough, meticulous perhaps being too strong a word but the boots were cleaned. Grantaire wondered if Enjolras had come prepared for this task with polish or if he would have to fetch boot black himself. The question was soon answered. Enjolras withdrew his foot but only for long enough to fetch a chair and a wrapped parcel. He sat and handed the bundled to the artist with a nod and an expectant look.

  
Grantaire carefully unwrapped the cloth holding the parcel together. Inside he found dubbin, a separate blacking, two cloths, a glass bottle of what appeared to be water, and perplexingly some absinthe. He glanced up at Enjolras and was met with a smile that could have cut glass. Just a slight upturn of lips on one side of his perfect mouth but his eyes and expression denoted a harshness. Grantaire bore it as he always did, it was not the first time Enjolras had favoured him with such a look although it was normally lacking the smile. He was well aware of how little the revolutionary thought of him.

  
"You can't possibly think that's clean enough." The tone was shifted from his normal derision there was something else here but the artist couldn't for the life of him workout what it was. "Clean it down with water and a cloth. Then you can use your precious Absinthe to make sure everything is spotless. God knows it seems to dissolve your reason well enough, perhaps it will do the same to any grime."

  
Grantaire nodded and quickly picked up a cloth and the bottle. He wet the cloth, rather than drenching Enjolras' foot, and scrubbed all remaining dirt off as best he could. Then he took the absinthe, sighed to himself at the waste of it and took up another cloth.

  
"Stop." Grantaire looked up, that smile was still in place. "The other cloth is for the blacking, so you're not smearing more dirt onto my boots once they're clean."

  
The artist frowned, by that logic he couldn't reuse the current cloth either. 

  
"As you are so fond of your absinthe, Grantaire, I'm sure you won't mind lapping it up."

  
Grantaire froze. That his chaste Apollo would suggest such a thing. He wondered if rumours of his libertinism had reached Enjolras, the fact he was a libertine was widely circulated amongst the group but the details were usually vague if not absent completely. To be positioned as such. On his knees in supplication. Cleaning Enjolras shoes as Magdalene once cleaned her Lord's feet. Yet to be asked to submit even further, to bend to Enjolras will as though he was ever able to resist with more than just words. 

  
Grantaire swallowed heavily, certain of the flush riding high on his cheeks. Certain that his eyes would look as though he'd given them a touch of belladonna, his pupils large, his iris' luminous. He gently cupped one hand just behind Enjolras' heel and raised the booted foot closer to him. He tilted the absinthe over it, slow trickles of strong liquor. He was careful not to get it in the boot, or on Enjolras socks. Then he bent, swaying forward until he could press his lips to Enjolras' lofty boot. For surely the ground he trod was not the same as that of lowly Grantaire. Such purity of ideas could not spring forth from the wretched earth of decaying Parisian streets. He licked long swathes across the boot, lapping up the bitter anise taste he so loved with the earthiness of leather underneath. Another taste he was not so averse to. Little by little, with gentle pours and shamefully hungry licks the artist cleaned the boot of his muse.

  
Once Enjolras tapped his cheek with his toe to signal enough he drew back, no longer able to meet piercing blue eyes. His trousers were tented obscenely. Shame and arousal burned across his cheeks and down his chest. He could feel himself shaking. Grantaire took the tin of dubbin and used his hands to massage it into the leather. Then he dipped the remaining cloth into the blacking and rubbed it in well. The dubbin made sure the boots would be waterproof but the blacking would make them uniform in colour. The combination made Enjolras' boot shine as though new.

The foot was withdrawn from his hands and the last remaining barrier, blocking view of his depravity, was removed. He gathered strength to beg pardon, to apologise for his lust, but the left boot was placed firmly on his thigh. He looked tentatively up at Enjolras. All he got was a raised eyebrow for his trouble and the boot pressing hard against his cock enough that he bit his tongue to keep from moaning.

  
"I hope you didn't think to get away with only cleaning one of them."


End file.
